


Unexpected

by xantissa



Series: Muddy Waters [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Eames wasn’t what Arthur expected, which was mostly why he let the man live. Pre-movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of prompts I am taking on my Live Journal. Anybody can drop by and leave a prompt.

Arthur let himself be pushed into the just closed door of the hotel room. Charles Brennan, or as he was known in the very small, very elitist world of dreamsharing, Mr. Eames, was a surprisingly big man. The ill-fitting and frankly horrendous tweed jacket did a rather good job of hiding the corded muscles of his arms, the heaviness of his chest. 

The way he bent his knees lowering his own center of gravity while pushing Arthur against the door, pressing his way between his legs and lifting him screamed Krav Maga. The move was so smooth, so ingrained in the sexual dance the man seemed very adept at that if it wasn’t for Arthur’s own extensive training he probably wouldn’t even notice. Training and the fact that contrary to his appearance he had no interest in sex with this man.   
He moaned and hitched his left leg higher on Eames hip and tilted his head back, letting the man maul his neck. His own arms went around his shoulders, hands in perfect position to grab his head and snap the neck in one swift movement.

It was a ridiculous situation, really. They both lied about their names and their professions. Mr. Eames called himself Charles Brennan and said he was a fashion advisor for a minor American television station. 

Arthur pretended to be a French business student by the name of Jean Ferrel. The fact that with his hair a bit too long and curling behind his ears, his slacks tailored ridiculously close and his shirt a bit too big he barely looked eighteen. 

It wasn’t hard to seduce the older man. His trainers in CIA told him, years ago, that there was something about Arthur that made people want to either fuck him up or just fuck him, and as dangerous as the forger was, he was not violent just for the sake of violence. He fell very neatly into the second category, which made the job all the easier for Arthur. Staging a meeting in a café close to the hotel he was staying and then letting himself get a bit drunk with Mr. Eames, let the man flirt with him and look receptive enough to get invited to his room.

It was easy mostly because Arthur was young, shockingly young for the kind of career he chose for himself. The CIA had made both the best and the worst possible decision when they chose Arthur for their experimental training regimen. Their decision was good because Arthur was the only one to actually come out functional at the other end, bad because while he was functional he wasn’t necessarily sane. Almost ten years of training in merely six months. All the best teachers they could find and second level of lucid dreaming. And while he was barely eighteen going under, for all instances and purposes, he came out almost thirty. It was much easier to manipulate a barely legal kid that it was someone ten years older. Even after they noticed and tried to break him down under the guise of torture survival training, it was too damn late. By twenty he’d already broken off from his handlers. He was smart enough not to step onto the war path with The Agency and offered them a deal. They don’t hound him for his knowledge and use of deamsharing and he will act as a sort of double agent in the dreamsharing community. 

Sadly for Mr. Eames he’d come to Barcelona to do a job as a midlevel manager in a small transport company. What he didn’t know was that his mark was actually a very valuable agent with access to very sensitive information. 

That was why Arthur had to move his ass to Barcelona as fast as possible to sabotage the job and keep the man’s cover intact. Unfortunately for Mr. Eames he was the one that had to die. It was the quickest and most efficient way to stop the whole job because it was only the thief that had access to a PASIV device.  
Still, the level of training Arthur could feel in the man’s body was surprisingly...high. It made him wonder if his research on the man was good enough, exhaustive enough because he really didn’t expect it.

The other man shifted slightly, stretching his neck to kiss Arthur again, his lips full and skilled and... unexpectedly not as unpleasant as Arthur usually expected. He really didn’t like being touched, having to constantly stop himself from lashing out, from breaking bones and tearing skin. Usually letting the mark put their hands on him was enough of an incentive to kill them. An unfortunate side effect of the so called training that made Arthur change his mind about serving his country, in favor of serving just money. He found it much more palatable.

In the years he spend on his own, he found only very, very few people whose touch was palatable or even somewhat pleasurable. One of them was the charming French chemist female he worked with a few times, the other two men he knew before the last training session fucked him up beyond all recognition. An architect and a sniper he’d known in his early days of service.  
Which was probably why the fact that he didn’t find the man kissing him disgusting, threw him so far off his game. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t slide his hands from the man’s shoulder to his neck, didn’t snap his spine with quick efficiency. Instead he let the man slide his hands under his shirt and touch skin unmarred by any scars. Let him lick at his lips, bite at his jaw and strip his body of his clothes with astounding efficiency. Really, letting himself become pliant under the man’s touch was proving to be unexpectedly... palatable. Even slightly drunk, Mr. Eames was very attentive and very, very observant. Really, if Arthur wasn’t as young as he was, if he made sure not to have any recognizable callouses and never got into habit of carrying weapons in the same place as to make sure never to attaint unconscious habits, the man would probably figure him out. It was surprisingly thrilling, in a very dangerous way, to be studied quite this closely, especially since he came here unarmed, planning to kill his mark with bare hands.

Instead he found himself leaning back, letting himself be stripped and touched. He was hard, had been for a while already but that was what pharmaceuticals were for. What he didn’t expect was the faint shiver that ran down his body as the wide, warm palm trailed down his bare side, onto his hip to curl warmly, possessively over the prominent bone.

It was an unexpected and unwelcome realization that killing this man would be a shame. There were possibilities there, something Arthur was loathe to just end. Instead he slid his hand into the short, blond, gelled hair and pulled him down for a kiss. He was literally taught how to kiss, how to give blow jobs, how to have sex with both men and women. Once upon a time, before his training, he probably even had some preferences of his own, but now it didn’t matter anymore. Sex was just another thing he was taught to be very good at. It being pleasurable for him was never a requisition.

Still, feeling the surprisingly heavy man press himself to Arthur’s body was not unpleasant, the warmth of him, the very earthy physicality of the act. He curled himself around the man, letting his leg tangle with his and pressed back. He pushed, making the blond back up a step. Arthur followed, kissing and biting gently at the corded neck, keeping one eye open and measuring the distance between them and the heavy metal table a little further in the room. Almost as an apology he snaked his hand down between them and pressed his palm to the man’s crotch, massaging the heavy cock trapped between their bodies and layers of fabric. 

Against all odds, he found himself not wanting to kill the thief, but he still needed to fulfill his mission or the both of them would be running from some very determined contract killers in the near future.

“Désolé” he murmured against the man’s skin, so quiet he doubted he would be heard and in the same, sharp movement he pushed at the thief’s shoulder and used his strategically poised angle to cut the man’s legs from under him sending him flying back with a shout and a sharp crack as his head hit the table on the way down.

Driven by another of those unexpected impulses he even checked if Mr. Eames was still alive before tossing his room in search of the PASIV device. After all without it there would be no extraction possible. The heavy concussion probably wouldn’t help, either. 

He smiled, finally finding the distinctive silver case hidden between ceiling and the decorative ceiling fixtures, secured to the concrete by creative use of duct tape of all things. Now that he had his own device, he could charge double for his services. 

Leaving the room he used Mr. Eames’ prepaid phone to call in a bomb threat at the localization of their headquarters set up by the extractor. Having effectively messed the extraction job he headed straight for the airport. He managed to get the man by surprise once, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think that Mr. Eames wouldn’t extract a very painful and probably final revenge on him if given the opportunity.

He would go to the states, that charming French chemist, Mallory Miles, had an interesting job and was looking for a point man, preferably one having access to a PASIV device and since she secured herself a great architect by marrying one, the team would be complete.

The end  
13-04-2013


End file.
